


Inveterate

by Grotesgi



Series: Love/Hate Heartbreak [4]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Other, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28499652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grotesgi/pseuds/Grotesgi
Summary: Out of all the mecha that could’ve found their way onto the organic mudball, ithadto be this one.
Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker (Transformers)
Series: Love/Hate Heartbreak [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1513661
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Inveterate

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually from 2018 but I never posted it. Have it now, though!

Megatron paused when he turned the corner and saw the… _State_ of the corridor. Intricate—and admittedly, very beautiful—mural of Cybertronian landscape followed one wall for as long as he could see. A pair of eradicons was admiring part of the mural some ways off. They snapped to attention as soon as they saw him and scurried off to do whatever it was they were supposed to be doing.

Once alone, Megatron scrubbed one massive palm down his face. It wasn’t that he was entirely against having the gloomy corridors decorated with images of their home planet, but was that brat _completely_ unable of asking for permission?

And why hadn’t Soundwave notified him of this? He could swear his TIC took some perverse pleasure from letting him find these bursts of creativity on his own.

Sighing in aggravation, Megatron opened a commlink to one of his most exasperating underlings. ::Sunstreaker.::

He didn’t have to wait for the waspish answer. _::What?::_

::Haven’t I told you enough times to ask for clearance _before_ redecorating the hallways?::

::Fuck off.::

Somehow the Earth expletive only made the blatant insubordination grate on his audials even more. He growled out loud and over the commline, but while most would have stepped back in line at once at the sound, he knew this particular menace wouldn’t find himself affected.

Out of all the mecha that could’ve found their way onto the organic mudball, it _had_ to be this one. ::You _will_ answer for that,:: Megatron hissed, already pinging Soundwave for the unruly warrior’s location.

:: _Whatever_ ,:: and the line was cut. He should have known better than to let the miscreant get to him, but that didn’t keep his lines from boiling or an ugly sneer from appearing on his faceplates.

_Out of all the-_

The deck shook under his steps as he turned to the shortest route to Sunstreaker’s location. Vehicons scattered from his way, and out of the corner of his optic he saw Knock Out stepping back into the room he was exiting, but he had the mind for one thing only.

That was until a frame of red and black caught his attention. When that frame noticed his approach, Sideswipe waved cheerfully from the group of eradicons he had been holding a rather animated discussion with.

Megatron skipped the pleasantries. “Where’s your brother?”

“In our quarters.” _Good_ , so the rascal hadn’t decided to escape Soundwave’s sensors—how the twins even knew how to do that, he wasn’t sure he’d ever learn. “Try not to trash the place, yeah?” Sideswipe added with a laugh. Megatron grunted something like a response before continuing his march. The red twin’s well wish of “Have fun!” rang behind him.

 _Oh_ he intended to.

His warpath cut the corridors to the nondescript door leading to the quarters the twins had claimed for themselves. Megatron _could_ have taken a moment to calm himself down before storming in, but he didn’t. It was a near thing he didn’t bodily force the door open when it didn’t open fast enough for his liking.

His growl greeted the sole occupant inside, who didn’t even bother looking up. “Took you long enough,” Sunstreaker commented, pacing the room like a caged animal. 

Megatron might have thought something of it if Sunstreaker didn’t _always_ do it when stuck indoors. “Did I keep you waiting?” the warlord ground out, stalking across his room to intercept the gold clad warrior on his next round through the well lived-in space.

“You always do.” Sunstreaker came to stop in front of him, tilting his chin up to direct those narrowed optics up at him.

Megatron felt a sneer form on his faceplates. “I don’t owe you my time.”

“And yet you came here. Curious.”

“Only because you _still_ haven’t learned basic respect. What did you do to my ship?”

Sunstreaker scoffed. “Stop getting your sprockets in a twist, I only painted one corridor. It looks better now.” He moved to circle past Megatron and continue his pacing, but a servo wrapping his upper arm in a vice hold stopped him. Sunstreaker’s field washed through the room, thick with his temperamental fury. “Let go of me.”

“You don’t give the orders here,” Megatron hissed, jerking the smaller mech back to his previous position. “How many times have I told you to _request permission_ before releasing your creative frustrations on things that don’t belong to you?”

“As many times as I’ve ignored you and done it anyway,” the warrior returned, a saccharine, mocking smile playing on his face. Megatron could practically feel his energon bubbling. The _flagrant_ disrespect, the constant needling, the sheer attitude—if he and his brother weren’t so damn good in the field he would have jettisoned the miscreant out to the emptiest corner of space a long time ago.

A growl rippled deep from his engine, and with ease that belied Sunstreaker’s own sturdiness, he hurled the warrior into the furthest wall. Sunstreaker impacted with it with a grunt, adding another dent to the many that already decorated the walls—Megatron couldn’t take credit for all of them; the twins had their own disagreements—but landed on his pedes. Megatron readied himself, and just as expected, Sunstreaker barely took the time to gather his bearings before charging him.

If he was going to give the brat credit for something, it would have to be his refusal to ever take a hit without returning it.

Though smaller, Sunstreaker wasn’t a foe to be underestimated. For as many times as Megatron managed to land a hit that sent him reeling or threw him into something, Sunstreaker _always_ came back at him with an equal amount of claw marks to add to Megatron’s frame. The little glitch knew _just_ where to strike.

But that was _fine_. Megatron knew equally much about him, and as skilled as both of the brothers were, they were laughably young compared to him. He’d competed in the Pits before they were even created. Sunstreaker _would_ go down despite his prowess.

Both their frames were working on high by the time Sunstreaker failed to dodge his servo. He didn’t waste the opportunity to grab the hellion and slam him against the wall. The impact wasn’t enough to even jar the brat, but although he paid for the pin with more bleeding rends, Megatron reveled in the opportunity to intercept those clawed servos and pin them against the wall above Sunstreaker’s head. With the bulk of the larger mech pressing him against the wall, Sunstreaker was well and truly trapped, not that it stopped him from complaining loudly through curses and kicks. “Let _go_ of me, you rusted piece of scrap,” the little warrior snarled through bared denta. Megatron stifled his grunt at one particularly forceful kick, and instead smiling down at his prey.

“No.”

It was sheer fury that rolled in thick waves from Sunstreaker, his field a heavy weight against Megatron’s, and yet no match for the warlord’s own. Megatron bore down with his own triumph until he’d all but drowned out the smaller mech’s field and sent Sunstreaker into another fit of furious expletives. He so _hated_ losing, even if he did _every_ time.

Not Kaon, not the Pits, certainly not the Autobots, and so far not the Decepticons had managed to file down the golden warrior’s edges. Megatron wasn’t sure whether to admire or hate the spiteful little mech for that. At the same time, it was a spirit he, despite everything, didn’t _want_ to see broken, no matter how unbearably difficult it often made him to deal with.

Sunstreaker had long since proven that this, whatever this was, anything that he could dish out… That was nowhere near enough to make the twin even remotely rethink his choices.

And yet they repeated the same dance every chance they got.

Holding the twin’s wrists securely in one massive servo, Megatron wormed the other one between their frames to cup Sunstreaker’s scalding panel. His sharpened claws dug into the seams to the tune of a pained hiss from the smaller mech. “Open.”

_“No.”_

“Very well.” Megatron thrust his digits into the panel seams, forcing his way through the triple-reinforced plating until he had enough purchase to _pull_. Sunstreaker screamed, in frustration more than in pain—Megatron knew he barely had any tactile sensors around the area—and he only had to move the panel halfway before the twin gave in and it snapped open the rest of the way.

Lubricant dripped onto the warlord’s servo and onto the floor when he removed his hand to wrap it around Sunstreaker’s waist. The pitspawn made a noise of protest at the smears that appeared on his plating, though that sound quickly morphed into a reluctant moan when Megatron released his spike and buried himself in the sopping, burning valve in one smooth push.

He wasted no time setting up a brutal pace, in and out with forceful motions of his hips. Sunstreaker’s helm tilted back against the wall and his lips drew back from his clenched denta, his chassis shuddering in undeniable pleasure. “I’ll… Fragging… _Kill you_ ,” the little mech panted before his voice gave way to a deep groan. His legs wrapped securely around Megatron’s waist, pulling him closer with a vice grip that even Megatron couldn’t fully fight. His thrusts turned shallower, but when Sunstreaker’s valve rippled over the length of his spike, he found he didn’t quite mind.

“If Starscream hasn’t managed that yet, neither will you,” Megatron purred, leaning in to mouth the biolight laden throat so tantalizingly bared for him.

On purpose, no doubt.

“Oh, but I’m _way_ more competent than him,” Sunstreaker said with a _deliciously_ strangled voice, his vents heaving.

“And yet I’ve heard that threat coming from you before—here I stand still.”

“I wasn’t properly- _Hnngh-_ Motivated before.”

Megatron chuckled and let his mouth glide up Sunstreaker’s throat, his jaw, chin, until he found his lips and crushed their mouths together. When his sharpened denta sank into Sunstreaker’s lower lip, the twin _mewled_ and overloaded with a sharp jerk. Megatron hissed when his valve clenched tight around his spike and the charge from Sunstreaker’s frame washed over his plating. It was enough to make him succumb to his own pleasure, and with a grunt Megatron pressed his hips tight against Sunstreaker’s as his spike jerked and spilled its discharge against the walls of the smaller mech’s valve. Sunstreaker moaned one last time, his bloody lips seeking out Megatron’s for a kiss that was all denta. “If this is what I get for disobeying, I need to do it more often.”

“You already do it _every_ chance you get,” Megatron rumbled, pulling out of the spasming valve and shutting his spike back behind its cover. When he released Sunstreaker, the troublemaking little mech dropped unsteadily onto his pedes, swaying in place before leaning back against the wall for purchase. 

Megatron smiled in satisfaction. Sunstreaker glanced up just in time to take notice and narrowed his optics up at him. “Don’t look so smug. You _will_ regret this.”

“I already regret every moment I waste with you.”

His lover made a noncommittal sound before bringing both of his servos up to shove at Megatron’s chassis. “Now get the _fuck_ out of my room.”

Megatron’s optics flashed.

* * *

After two more rounds of brawling and rough interfacing, Megatron finally stumbled out of the twins’ shared quarters, covered scrapes, gashes, and bodily fluids. Leaning on the wall right outside the door was none other than the room’s other occupant. Sideswipe’s knife did one more flip through the air before he caught it for the last time and beamed up at Megatron. “Had fun?”

Megatron grunted. The red twin seemed to take pity on him because he asked nothing else, merely patted one arm nearly as thick as his entire frame. “Go get washed and fueled.”

With that, the red mech slipped through the doorway that had barely had the time to close. Megatron listened in long enough to hear a thump, a growl that could belong to Sunstreaker, and then the melodic sound of Sideswipe’s laughter.

Megatron shook his helm. Those two would be the death of him before Starscream ever got to it.


End file.
